


abandon me not

by calarinanis



Category: I Medici | Medici: Masters of Florence (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Heavy Angst, Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26687128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calarinanis/pseuds/calarinanis
Summary: After Cosimo leaves her behind in Florence, Contessina feels overwhelmed by sorrow and fury though all she wishes is for him to return home.
Relationships: Contessina de' Bardi/Cosimo di Giovanni de' Medici
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	abandon me not

Silent tears mar her cheeks, a glistening silver against her pale skin. An ache twists within her heart, sinking its teeth into the very depths of her chest. She cannot breathe. She attempts to focus her attention by counting upon her fingers, a childish trick, but one she hopes will work to still the storm raging through her body. It does not. Her long-fingered hands are shaking. Unsteadiness crawls from her feet to her legs, aiming to unbalance her. She forces a deep breath to her lungs.

It does not help the feelings raging through her mind.

“Madonna!”She hears the worried voice of Emilia but it does not register. It is akin to someone calling her name in a crowded marketplace, dim and barely heard.“Monna!”

Making a fist, she holds it against her chest until she feels her heart pound against her thumb. She ignores the ever-growing pain of her nails rending her flesh. Cosimo had left her. He had walked away without a backward glance. Sharp stings pricked her eyes and she was not certain whether it was out of sadness or fury. She would not drown in tears. Scrubbing at her eyes, she tries to remove all trace of sorrow. Why should she cry for the man who abandoned her? Rage hides in the depths of her eyes, behind the shiny glass of tears, but no less potent.

She has been left behind for her sins. Her husband, son and daughter-in-law in exile with each other for company whilst she has no-one. She had saved the life of Cosimo. Was that such a crime? To have pleaded with the Signoria for the life of her husband. Yet, she had felt the chill in Cosimo as he bid her to remain in Florence. His voice had been devoid of emotion, he could not bring himself to look at her for she had saved his life. The only price to pay was exile.

“I am fine, Emilia.” Her voice does not waver and she is thankful for the strength that God has given her.

She sees the concern upon Emilia’s face. “Monna, are you certain?”

“I am fine.” The word is emphasised yet she feels the lie choke her.

She is not fine. All she wants is to languish in the comfort of Cosimo’s embrace. To seek solace in the forgiveness of his voice. But, she is denied even that. She has the contentment of her home, she has the authority to look after their business in Florence but it does not soothe the need to be held. To feel the warmth of his body against her own. She cannot break down in front of the servants. Though, Emilia was more friend than servant anyway. It would be unacceptable. She prays for God to gild her spine with steel so that she may banish her emotions.

She will not allow her weakness to overwhelm her.

Though, the prick of her anger still burns hot within her veins. It is like white-hot metal forged by a blacksmith and she wishes to wield it to damage someone. Someone, she laughs within her mind. She wishes to rage against Cosimo and the Signoria and Rinaldo degli Albizzi. All she has is the four walls of her home and the patience of her household servants including Emilia who still stares at her. Tempering her feelings, she remembers her place. She does not wish to hurt Emilia. Sweet Emilia, her maid through everything, who knows her mistress better than her own child. Forcing her feet to move across the cold stone floor, she presses on to the privacy of her own room. The doors are heavy. It saps her strength to clang them shut but it’s worth the resounding thud. She can hear its echo. It’s strangely satisfying and she forces herself not to do it again. She’s not a child after all. 

“Cosimo.”

She says his name like a prayer and an insult. It gives her strength and takes it from her within a span of time that feels longer than eternity and shorter than a blink of any eye. Playing with the rosary wrapped around her hand, she feels lost to the war fought by her anger and sorrow. The only injured party being herself of course. She laughs. Aloud this time for no-one will hear it in the chambers of her room. Their room. The room in which she first gave herself to Cosimo, in which she had miscarried several children and birthed only one. She wondered if this was what it was like to be mad. Feelings rushed in and out of her body, thoughts wrestled each other for supremacyand she could not concentrate on anything.

A sweet rose scent hits her nose and she is reminded of Cosimo.

_“Contessina,” he had said with a slight smile upon his lips._

_She had been overseeing the dinner for tonight, her face flushed with the heat of the kitchen. “Cosimo!”_

_It had been a genuine surprise. She had not expected him until the evening. Instead, here he stood bathed in the warmth of the radiant sunlight. He was holding something behind his back._

_“I have brought a gift for you,” he said as he looked her in the eye._

_His expression had been so serious and sincere save for the slight quirk of his lip. She had not known what to think. It was rare to see Cosimo with emotion written across his face and rarer still for him to venture to the kitchens in search of her._

_She waited a moment. “Oh Cosimo, they are so beautiful. Thank you.”_

_Cosimo had brought her a bouquet of roses. The first time in their many years of marriage that he had bought her flowers and the only time to date. Bright red roses interspersed with the white roses she adored. He had pulled them from behind him, his expression almost bashful, and offered them to her._

Tearing them out of the crystal vase, she looked at them a mere moment before she tossed them to the floor. She sat amongst them, ripping away the petals as if she could throw her anger away with them. So soft, so delicate. Yet, she destroyed them anyway. She had been fragile when she had believed Cosimo was to die and he had plucked out her heart anyway, choosing practicality over emotion. It was nothing new. Slamming her hand on the stone floor, she felt a crack of pain sear through it. She looked at it as if it were some foreign sight. Her pale hand warped with a single finger out of place. Blood bubbled from the finger. It had felt so good. Then, the walls began to fall inside her. Tears burst out of her eyes, noises roamed free from her throat and she allowed herself a moment of indulgence. She would cry. She would rage. Then, she would run this household as she had always done.

She would remember her duty to Cosimo.

A chill ran through her bones. She stood up. On unsteady legs, she walked towards their bed and nestled herself in the middle. Leaning over to the bedside cabinet, she pulled out a strip of fabric and bound her finger. The blood was beginning to make her feel unwell. It did nothing for the odour of old rust emanating from the tip. Her head swam. She lay down, rumpling her dress. Perhaps, if she slept for some time she would feel better. Perhaps, Cosimo would return to collect her from this house.

Perhaps, she would no longer be alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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